Under Siege McGee Style
by Fictionnaire
Summary: An investigation on a carrier takes a turn.  Hostages are taken and it's up to McGee to save the day.  SeSa gift for Enthusiastic Fish


Under Siege: McGee Style  
Rated F-13 for mild swearing and violence

McGee wasn't much of a sportsman through his life but he kept fit. He found himself carrying the metal case through the aircraft carrier like a football and jumped the knee-knockers like they were hurdles.

Of course it wasn't 'The' football. In this case it was a suitcase full of money. Of the two cases he could've grabbed, it was the money. A shitload of it. He didn't look back because he knew that the people were following him.

As he turned and climbed the steps that brought him closer to the deck of the ship McGee heard the high pitched ping of a bullet hitting metal. He was glad he was on a small class carrier and not one of the large ones. But that's probably why he found himself in this situation.

Then he was thankful he didn't take the wrong turn and McGee finally was able to open the door to the harsh sunlight of the Deck. Of course there was no chance to get to safety or off the ship… That had never been his intention. It was very windy near the edge.

"Stop! I said stop!"

Even with the howling wind blowing around his ears he could hear the gunshot go off. It was a surprise that he didn't feel a bullet. Slowly, very slowly, McGee turned around with briefcase covering his chest and stomach.

"Hand the cash over," the man ordered. He held his weapon right at McGee.

McGee was trying to catch his breath so didn't answer the man. Instead he held the briefcase closer to the edge and shook his head slowly, almost daring the shooter to fire.

"Don't think I won't," the shooter responded.

"Don't think I won't," McGee copied as he went to turn around and swing.

"There is a shitload of money in it. Nobody's untouchable. You can have a quarter," the shooter suggested. Everybody had a price and the problem was just finding that magical number.

McGee had seen the money in the briefcase. There was a lot that's for sure. Just a quarter of what was in there would last a wise man a lifetime. He took a moment to think of the events that had lead the two to this standoff.

NCISNCISNCIS

Carrier Boarding

"Ah a Skeleton Crew ship," Tony joked. He was in much better mood now that they were finally out of the office.

"I can feel another reference coming on," McGee whispered into Ziva's ear. Just setting foot on the ship was enough to set his seasickness into motion.

"Looking a little green, McHulk," Tony commented.

This caused a slight chuckle.

"Hey," Gibbs snapped. He had witnessed a form of cabin fever but now he was wishing they were back in the bullpen.

They placed the gear over their shoulders and were lead deep into the Carrier. There was a report of two dead naval officers. There was always more of a chance of shady things going on while the ship had such a small number.

Xxxxxxxxx

As predicted, relentlessly by Tony DiNozzo, McGee's stomach didn't remain settled. Writing notes and concentration were taking its toll. When his stomach churned and almost lost its contents over the notebook, he had to excuse himself. And quickly.

Point A to point B was never a straight line on a carrier.

McGee had just made it to the sink before his body lost control. He rinsed the sink out and moved over to the next sink and rinsed his mouth thoroughly. There would be some laughter at his expense, he knew that but right now he was concentrating on making the nausea disappear.

He allowed the water to naturally dry over his face. There was an eerie silence and all he could hear was his own breathing. Again he splashed water on his face. There was a loud bang followed by what sounded like automatic gunfire. Sure, he wasn't used to that sound but it was unmistakable. There was shouting and the sound of echoing footsteps coming his way.

The natural urge was to go and look at what was going on but he fought against it and searched around for an open locker. Finally there was one and he pulled it shut. Through the thin slits of the locker door, McGee could see a young man walk by. The light brown haired man was carrying some sort of weapon but he couldn't see it all to ID it.

The man walked past the locker and McGee tried not to breathe. He almost gasped when the armed man seemingly looked right at him but the man looked away and for some reason, whacked the locker next to him with the rifle butt before moving out.

In a moment of refuge, McGee attempted to settle his mind to think up a plan of action.

First… Find where the hostages were being held

McGee found that he had relaxed a little as he began formulating a strategy. If he didn't know where the prisoners were, he could inadvertently wonder into a guarded area. He thought about where a good place huddle the prisoners…

Mess

That sounded logical. Big enough area… close to amenities but he needed to confirm it. After that, he'd find a way to communicate with the outside world. Had to be a safe bet that he couldn't just leave the ship and the solid metal wreaked havoc on cell phone reception.

McGee carefully peered around the corner to see a couple of armed men walking away. Some voices out of sight could be heard and then foreign voice yelling something angrily. He hazarded a guess that the person speaking sounded as if he was speaking German.

McGee checked his Sig clip and saw that it was full. That meant he had to work on the assumption that all he had was 15 rounds. That couldn't be enough for a firefight against heavily armed men.

"Oh boy," McGee muttered to himself.

Xxxxxxx

Mess

Gibbs had sighed when McGee left to go to the head. But as they were being lead by gunmen and had their weapons stripped, he thought it would be a good thing. The young agent could be getting word back to HQ and get help on the way. McGee was smart enough to know to keep his head down.

In any given hostage situation it was important to keep both Hostages and the Hostage takers to remain calm. But since he was an experience Federal Agent he was attempting to gather as much information as possible. He hated being in a situation where he felt helpless.

Xxxxxxxxx

Communication

McGee couldn't get an accurate head count. Whenever he tried to take in the situation he had to quickly be on the move again. He removed his shoes so they wouldn't make unnecessary sound. The only way he stopped himself from freaking out was to consciously go through each step.

Couldn't get an accurate head count. Must contact the outside… CommRoom. McGee knew that it was a dangerous move. The people were obviously professionals. It was a safe presumption that it would be guarded somewhat but he had to at least try. If that wasn't an option, then he'd find a way to get on deck

He paid careful attention to make sure he wasn't sent sprawling forward by tripping over the knee knockers that divided the compartments. By the time he made it near the Comm, he wasn't thinking. Instead, he was running on autopilot. In this mode lucky acts were able too be performed. Some that probably would never be repeated no matter how much he tried.

McGee leapt over the final knee knocker, slid on his frictionless socks, almost tripped to stop and jumped into the CommRoom. He managed to catch a glimpse of two guards who were back to back looking down two of the three passageways that converged.

"What?" The CommOfficer was surprised to see a shoeless suited man enter with such suddenness.

McGee didn't have time to formerly explain his situation. He held his weapon towards the man and held a finger to his own lips. The CommOfficer nodded in understanding.

"Send an e-mail," McGee spoke quickly. Doing so, would probably alert them to a man on the run. His fear of being discovered was overshadowed by a sense of duty. He leaned over and quickly typed the e-mail message.

Footsteps, weighed down by boots, echoed to signal approaching people. McGee made sure to press the send button and close the option down before standing behind the door, ready to fire if needed be.

When the two people walked in to check something on the radio, McGee began to sweat a little. Physically he was ready to shoot to kill but there was still that doubt. He knew it wouldn't be murder. It was times like these he questioned why he became a Field Agent since he was in the computer crimes department.

Computer Crimes

Computers!

He almost said it out loud in exasperation. But caught the words in his throat. There was no chance to out muscle them but with the element of surprise, he was sure he could outsmart them and buy time.

His trigger finger tightened but fortunately he was hidden behind the door in such a way that when the people turned clockwise, McGee was invisible. The two left after they checked through things. McGee waited until he was sure they were out of earshot. But he had to move quickly still.

"Send an e-mail here," McGee spoke quickly again. The natural adrenaline rush was aiding in the fast talking. "Tell them to send attachments of gunfire, explosions and shouting. Anything they can find in five minutes," McGee checked his watch.

"Also, make sure that you have control over the speaker system. I mean full control," McGee continued. He licked his lips and looked at the CommOfficer to acknowledge.

"Right," he said.

"I mean so you can easily activate the chosen speakers throughout the ship," McGee wanted to make sure the guy understood.

"I got it," the CommOfficer sounded annoyed.

"You have a phone?" McGee asked. The man showed it to him and McGee put the number in his own phone and waited for him to do the same. "Call me when it's organized," he made certain to switch his to vibrate only. The last thing he needed was his ringtone to go off when he was trying to sneak around.

"Alright," he said.

Xxxxxxxxx

Mess

Gibbs was pacing around. He was unarmed and occasionally looked at Ziva to see if she was formulating a plan. With the gunmen being close enough to hear everything, they couldn't communicate. They only muttered their distaste for the situation, at least that didn't draw any unwanted attention.

Several times he had asked what was going on but never got an answer. The only clue they had been given was two seemingly identical silver metallic suitcases that had been carried into the kitchen.

After some time had passed, the situation became more tolerable. It had almost became calm. People on both sides were looking more relaxed but it was obvious that it wouldn't take a large spark to ignite things.

The sound of echoing gunfire and subsequent explosions startled everyone. It sounded like all hell had broken loose. But there was something that didn't sound right but Gibbs had put it down to the sound bouncing off the echo.

"Check it out!" One of the men ordered the guards.

They were reluctant but obeyed and they left.

Xxxxxxxx

McGee peered around the corner from the doorway. He whispered into his cell phone for the CommOfficer to make the sound appear to come from two compartments towards the Aft of the ship.

Instinctively, he ducked as the sound of gunfire sounded like it was coming overhead and further down. It took a couple of seconds for his ears to stop ringing but it had the desired effect. A third person ran out and followed the other two. McGee knew it couldn't be too long until they figured that the sounds were faked.

He peered into the mess. There was still one armed guard he could see. It was now or never. The internal switch was securely fastened to the fight response. Having overheard them talking in the CommRoom, he knew that whatever they had hold of was in the cooking area. That made sense. It was deep within the ship and easily defended.

Like a football star, he sprinted through the mess and tackled the man to the ground. He landed heavily him self. "Guard him," he wrestled the automatic rifle from the man and handed it to the nearest person.

McGee didn't have time to talk to Gibbs. Instead he went straight for the galley and fired several shots inside. An element of surprise was all he needed.

"He's got the money," someone shouted as McGee grabbed the case. He backed out firing as he did and used the large case almost like a shield.

"Get him," someone said.

McGee turned his back and ran. He knew it wasn't smart to show his unprotected back to the enemy. "Go!" McGee heard Gibbs' gruff voice order. There was a scuffle behind him and shots.

When he exited the Mess, two of the guards approached him. McGee allowed his momentum to carry his weight and the case forward which knocked the men into the nearby wall. McGee managed to scramble to his feet first and began running through the Ship's maze.

Xxxxxxx

Present Time, On Deck

Why had he wanted to become a Senior Field Agent? Ashamedly, McGee had to admit that he liked the danger. There was also the chance to make a difference.

Selfish? Maybe just a little.

McGee didn't think until now that he should've made sure to pick up his Sig. Now he was unarmed and facing the prospect of being shot dead.

"Damn it! Hand the case over!" The man was at the end of his patience.

McGee heard the impatience. There wasn't much he could do. He showed the palm of his hands to show he had no weapon and approached to within arm's reach slowly.

"Good choice," the man told him and reached for the case.

McGee knocked the weapon out of the man's hand and threw it at his face. Before he knew it they were rolling around on the deck wrestling. Each time McGee went for his cuffs, the man got the upper hand. In a defensive move, McGee flipped him overhead and away from him.

It seemed like a good idea at the time…

Suddenly, McGee was on his back looking up at the barrel of a pistol. He held his breath and heard a strange whizzing sound. The man's eyes widened and looked blank. A neat hole formed in the middle of his forehead.

An eternity passed before he slumped to the ground.

"Are you okay?" Someone asked him. They were dressed in strange gear and carrying what looked like long range, silenced weapons.

"Yes," McGee said. It was only then he realized he hadn't moved.

There was even more firing. "Get off the ship," McGee was ordered.

He blinked and stood up. "My friends… My colleagues," his mind was racing with adrenaline-induced speed.

"Get down," McGee found himself ushered to the steps leading off the carrier. He felt torn between getting off the ship or making sure they his boss and colleagues were safe.

The sound of gunfire eased as they went deeper inside. Then there was an uneasy silence. Again, he felt an eternity pass. He drunk some water that had been offered and was relieved when he saw Tony, Gibbs and Ziva walking toward him.

"Better job than the cook I'd say," Tony gave McGee a congratulatory pat on the shoulder.

"Under Siege with Steven Segal?" Ziva wasn't familiar with too many American movies but she was learning.

McGee smiled brightly.

"Except that in Under Siege it was the girl in the cake, Jordan Tate who had seasickness. This is Under McSiege. Come on McRyback," Tony responded.

McGee sighed. He knew the eventful day was far from over. There'd be reports to fill out, a debriefing and relaying what had happened at least a couple of times. Oh God and the murder investigation they hadn't started. He looked down at his feet and remembered that he had left his shoes in the Carrier.

"Wait... My shoes!" McGee said. Tony, Ziva and Gibbs looked at him then at his socked feet. They chuckled slightly.

Out of nowhere, a pair of shoes with the laces tied together sailed through the air and landed in front of him. Without knowing the reason why... He let out a laugh, put the shoes on and quickly followed the others.

"Reminds me of the scene in Indiana Jones And the Last Crusade. Indy's hat flies through the air and lands in front of him. Indy has his hat... And Tim here has his shoes," Tony commented.

THE END


End file.
